


Reckless

by heartunsettledsoul



Series: Forgotten Moments [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Missing Moments, canon additions, in which jughead is reckless and betty kinda likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 07:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartunsettledsoul/pseuds/heartunsettledsoul
Summary: A missing moment between 2x01 and 2x02 - Betty made him feel a little invincible. And that made Jughead feel safe enough to do something stupid.





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cooperjones2020](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooperjones2020/gifts).



> "Are you worried about me? I thought you liked me reckless…"  
> Quoth my good pal @cooperjones2020, #okay but what happened off screen that led jughead to this conclusion#was there a conversation? #a secret adventure? #i want to see it.   
> This feels like a rambling mess, but here we are. I imagine this taking place in the amorphous amount of time between 2x01 and 2x02.

Jughead could tell the motorcycle made Betty uneasy. The way she looked at it the first time he climbed on and offered her a ride betrayed her concern. He’d had no problem teasing her into submission to try it out ﹘ the threat of Alice Cooper’s presence was clearly enough to get his skeptical girlfriend to slip his helmet on and hold tight. (Jughead tried to ignore the low purring deep in his stomach that burst forth when he saw his signature symbol on her, even if it was just the helmet he barely used. He would never say it out loud but he loved seeing her wear something that showcased their relationship. Jughead wasn’t a caveman, he knew and appreciated that Betty was her own person both within their relationship and outside of it. But still. His crown looked good on her.) 

Regardless of how smoothly that first ride on the motorcycle went, Jughead knew Betty didn’t like it. She had clutched at him tightly, beyond the required hold to hang on, and her heart rate betrayed her anxiety. He really wanted for her to warm up to it: it was the piece of his dad’s life that he felt most comfortable hanging on to and, at this point, his main method of transportation ﹘ provided Sheriff Keller nor his deputies felt inclined to pull him over and ask for his non-existent license. 

Not that Jughead didn’t relish in the time he and Betty spent together walking to and from Pop’s, or to the Cooper house or his dad’s trailer. They could go at whatever pace they wanted, and lately that meant doubling the length of the walks, to squeeze every drop of togetherness out of the time they had alone. He just wanted more of that time.

More than one thing had changed the night of the jubilee. Jughead had a new jacket hanging on his coat rack, whether he liked it or not, based on the “message” his dad’s crew left for him. The change he  _ did  _ like from that night was the new way Betty held herself around him, and he was sure his demeanor had evolved a little as well. They had always been comfortable together, that was part of what made their relationship work so well, but in the wake of that night and of the line they’d formerly been inching toward in their time alone and had now blown well past, Jughead and Betty seemed drawn to each other, as though they were caught in a magnetic field. When they walked together, Betty listed into his side; in the booth at Pop’s their hands were always wound together, his hand resting on her thigh; even at school, Betty seemed to fall within his physical orbit in a matter of seconds; it was a craving they both clearly felt, to give into the moment and live their recklessly teenage lives. Jughead’s hands itched to feel the warm and smooth expanses of skin that lay hidden under Betty’s innumerable sweaters and wanted to feel the burn of her hands at his neck, in his hair. 

In the chaos following Fred’s shooting, the only time Jughead had felt that burning closeness was when Betty had clung to him on the motorcycle. Unfortunately, the anxious bite of her nails into his skin through his layers meant that the feeling had not exactly been mutual. Jughead liked riding the bike, it felt as though he were in a sort of free fall when he was on it. It was not unlike the odd sensation of rapid flight that had bubbled up from within when he had accidentally slammed Betty into the kitchen cabinets of the trailer, lost in the heat of the moment. 

He felt  _ alive _ . 

Jughead supposed that any normal teenager might feel on fire when making out with the person who might be the love of their love. But Jughead felt like the world was ending in the most wonderful way when he was with Betty, and something told him that didn’t classify as “normal.” It certainly wasn’t normal for  _ him  _ and he wanted to feel the way he did with her every second of every day. With Betty, Jughead was happy and loved, and was able to shut out some of the more miserable aspects of his life, no matter how often those miseries came crawling back. 

Betty made him feel a little invincible. And that made Jughead feel safe enough to do something stupid. 

Which is precisely why he was riding FP’s motorcycle across town in the middle of the night to sneak into Betty’s bedroom. It wasn’t necessarily the  _ worst  _ idea Jughead ever had, but it definitely wasn’t the best. On a whim after school, he’d ducked into a secondhand shop and surrendered some of the last of his drive-in money buying another motorcycle helmet for her. He had really wanted to find a colorful one, but beggars can’t be choosers when there’s only twenty bucks to spare. Jughead settled for a plain white helmet in the same style as his black one (sans crown) and dug through some of Jellybean’s art supplies that had been left behind to find a pink sharpie and wrote Betty’s name along the bottom. It felt beyond cheesy, and two months ago, Jughead would have rather launched himself into Sweetwater River than do something cheesy for a girl, but that was the kind of effect Betty Cooper had on people. She changed them, for the better. 

Despite the late hour, a light was still on in Betty’s bedroom. Jughead turned off the bike’s motor at the end of the street and walked to the Cooper’s yard so as not to awake the wrath of anyone inside. By some bizarre miracle, the ladder that had lain against the side of the house by Betty’s window was still there. (Either Mr. Cooper had gotten lazy about his yardwork or the Coopers thought no one was dumb enough to sneak into or out of their house. If it was the latter, Jughead was about to prove them very wrong.) 

Betty had her back to the window when he lightly knocked on the glass and she jumped about a foot in the air at the noise.

“Jug,” she admonished him, raising the window and helping him clamber in. “A warning might have been nice. You scared me half to death!” 

He smirked at her and placed a brief kiss against her lips. “But that would have spoiled the surprise, Betts.” Her eyes sparkled at his words and Jughead instantly warmed, despite the chill of the night’s air. 

“There’s a surprise?” 

“Only if you come outside.” 

Now Betty faltered. “ _ Jug _ , my mom will kill me if she finds out. She’s way more intense since…” She trailed off, seeming to catch herself from saying something.  _ Since what,  _ he wanted to ask. Betty corrected herself quickly. “Since all this stuff with Mr. Andrews. There’s a maniac with a gun on the loose.” 

Jughead cupped her cheek in his hand, unable to stand another moment of not touching her. She sank into the touch, smiling as he spoke. “This is Riverdale. Something is always gonna be dangerous. I’ll keep you safe, I swear.” 

Betty’s eyes still looked uncertain, but her tense posture loosened slightly. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly, bringing her own hands up to the lapels of his jean jacket. Jughead shivered at her touch, even though there were still so many layers of clothing between them. 

He wanted to feel that electrifying free fall again, so he looked her in the eyes and smiled before kissing her hard and quick. The gasp she let into his mouth went straight down his spine and he had half a mind to give up on his plan and try to pick up where they left off the night of the Jubilee. With agonizing self control, Jughead pulled his mouth away from Betty’s. She chased him a little, as though she hadn’t been ready for the kiss to break, and Jughead felt the start of a growl deep in his chest. 

This wasn’t the moment. 

“Come on, Betts.” He kissed her again, this time softly, if only to maintain his tenuous grasp on control. He so badly wanted to feel the warm skin under the pale blue shirt she had on and to press her up against the pink walls of her bedroom. But almost as badly, Jughead wanted Betty to embrace the freedom and flight he felt on the motorcycle. So he punctuated his next words with kisses, breaking each one with a light pop. “Let’s live a little.” 

Betty smiled into the last kiss and he knew he’d convinced her. She tugged on shoes and a coat, and the two quietly crept down the ladder and into the night. Tender excitement radiated off Betty the moment her feet hit the damp ground and Jughead could tell that, much as she’d deny it, she was enjoying the thrill of doing something dumb just for the hell of it. He slung an arm around her shoulder and walked her to where he’d parked the bike. The cautious look in her eye returned as it came into view and Jughead squeezed her shoulder gently. 

“Just hear me out for a minute, okay?” He reluctantly left Betty’s side for the briefest of moments to retrieve her helmet from the ground on the other side of the motorcycle. Betty blinked in surprise as he handed it to her and immediately slipped his arms around her waist. “My handwriting sucks, so sorry about that. But I wanted you to have your own so we could maybe ride this together more in the future. I know it makes you nervous, but I’m really starting to like this thing and it feels kinda nice to have something fun to do. And I love you and know you probably hate this bike, but if you don’t think about it while you’re moving, I swear it feels like you’re flying. We don’t have to go on the main roads, even, I can just take us to Riverdale High and drive around the parking lot or something.” 

Betty was silent, turning the helmet over in her hands and running her fingers along the letters he’d written. When she looked up at him, she was smiling. 

“Okay,” Betty agreed. “Let’s go flying.” 

**Author's Note:**

> always happy to hear your thoughts! kudos and comments make the world go 'round (and make fic authors feel happy and validated, too). 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr under the same handle.


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